


Birthday Cake

by happycookiie



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bethyl Theme, Birthday, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Past Child Abuse, Physical Contact Disorder, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Tension, Sexual Tension, Summer of Bethyl, Understanding Feelings, Working Through Mental Problems, prison era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 06:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4511838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happycookiie/pseuds/happycookiie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Daryl's birthday, or at least he thinks it is, and Beth wants to do something for him. She's always been hanging around him recently, passing him these tiny smiles, starting random conversations with him... And there's something about the youngest Greene that makes his heart flutter, and he doesn't know why that is. But a nightly trip to the prison's guard tower with blankets and candles and moonshine helps him get his head around that weird feeling, and also helps him quell the demons he's keeping at bay, under the light of her smile. (For Summer Of Bethyl)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. She's always just right

**Author's Note:**

> Just a thing I wrote for Birthday week in Summer Of Bethyl, first time writing in present tense as opposed to past. A few chapter fic set during the prison time, post-S4 where Daryl and Beth strike an unlikely friendship that obviously leads to something more...
> 
> Enjoy!

"You don't know when your own birthday is? Weird..."

"'Course I know when it is, I jus' don' know dates no more since no one's keepin' track of 'em."

"Then how do you know it's your birthday today?"

"I  _don't_. I jus' know it's around this time o' the year. Could be today, could be tomorrow."

"And it could be the day after that."

Daryl frowns and rubs his nose. He shakes his head before wiping the sweat from his brow, and then goes back to fixing the bike.  _She_ , however, refuses to drop the subject. She's never satisfied with small chatter that ends as just quickly as it started. She likes to keep things going, as long as she can. And that can be a very long time, he's beginning to realise from talking to her.

"How old would you be?" Beth asks him from her perch on the grassy slope. She sits just beside where the bike is parked stationary, her legs crossed and beaming up at him with those big, bright eyes of hers.

"I dunno," he mumbles with a shrug, "It matter?"

"I guess not..." she replies in that singsong voice of hers, and he watches her pluck several blades of grass with her fingers.

He forgets how this conversation even started now, and quite frankly it doesn't matter. The youngest Greene always seemed to be starting a chat with him these days. More so than she had before. Chats that ranged from what was going on in the prison, to why the sky was blue. She speaks about anything really, and he would find something like that annoying is it were anyone else, but for some reason with her... It's different. Like talking about the length of grass stalks with her  _actually_ had some kind of meaning, as strange as that sounded. She has a way of making things seem meaningful, be they actual real-life issues... or just the lengths of fucking blades of grass.

They had been doing this a lot recently, having these random conversations. Ever since he'd gone to her cell to tell her of Zach's unfortunate demise that day, and she had just told him she no longer cried, and wrapped her arms around him...

And after that, she approached him daily and started all kinds of talks with him. It doesn't really annoy him, he likes the chats he has with her. He just wonders why she's so set on talking to  _him_ when she has a whole  _prison_ of people who would make much better company.

"But doesn't it bother you?" she asks randomly, twirling a piece of grass around her finger.

"What?"

"You know... Not knowing your age."

He shrugs at the question. "Not really."

"But what do you do when it's time to celebrate your birthday if you don't know how  _old_ you are?" she pushes, still lengthening the conversation, though he still wonders why she does that. "What number do you put on the banners and cards? And how many candles do you put on the cake?"

Little Beth Greene, thoughts always so weird, but strangely cute. She talks like this all the time, her thought process so simple. Everything is so simple to her, all summed up in a sentence, all in a song that falls from her lips... He envies that. That young, hopeful naiveté of hers. She's seen the world the way it is now, but unlike he and the others, she hasn't let it change her. They've all been hardened by it, always carrying a gun, safety first, no trusting strangers. But her... She does some of that stuff, but with her there's more. He's not really sure what it is, or how she does it, but the things she says are so  _young_ , but he  _believes_ them. Like when she said they could live here, in this dirty prison, that they could be  _happy_. He believed her. Because there was something about the way she said it, how it fell from her lips so simply and just  _right_ , he believed in it.

He believes in her words, and now here he is listening to her talk about birthday banners and candles on cakes. And she's asking him how old he is and when his birthday is, just normal questions before the turn that now seem so fucking weird to be said out loud. But again with her, they just seem right. So he can answer her, he always answers her. Because it's  _her_.

"I... I don' celebrate things like that." he mutters, messing with the tank of the bike as a means of distraction from the look in her eyes... But he still sees her. Can't seem to stop seeing her as of late.

She blinks and cocks her head to the side, and her fingers still at plucking blades of grass. She seems genuinely surprised. "Really?" she asks, "Why not?"

"Never... Never really saw the point... No one else did either..."

" _Huh_..."

He looked up from the bike then to see her sitting with fingers pressed to her lips, seemingly lost in thought about something. He hopes it isn't why the clouds are shaped the way they were, or something else weird she would say. He knows he would still answer it though if it was.

Beth grins then, and looks up at him. She leaps to her feet and clasps her hands together, eyes shining with an odd sense of what he thinks is determination? There is also mischievous glint in her eyes that he doesn't like, and her grin only widens at his puzzlement.

"Are you busy later?" she asks slyly, shoulders swaying.

"Uh..." He scratches the back of his head. Why is he even thinking about it? Of course he isn't busy? What would he be busy with? It's not like he has a late job to go to, or a town to go to with friends and get a beer. All he has but time now, when he's not out on runs or hunting. All he has is time without Merle to keep from getting his face shot off.

"No... I'm not. Why?"

Her grin seems to widen even more at that (if that was remotely possible), and her eyelids glide closed. He wonders what's got her like this, she doesn't usually behave so...  _Mysteriously_. "I'll be seein' you!" she sings before darting off back up to the prison.

And Daryl stands there by his bike, scratching his head and wondering what the hell the youngest enigmatic Greene could possibly be up to.

.

.

It's dark by the time Daryl finally returns to his cell, the bike providing difficult and not wanting to be fixed, followed by Glenn needing help wiring one of the trucks up. Turns out the idiot had been using the wrong equipment altogether.  _Stupid_. That's what he got for being so wrapped up in a woman all the time. He had a responsibility as a member of the council to ensure the safety of the prison, and the last time Daryl checked, fucking Maggie on the job was not on the to-do list of that chair position.

He sits on his bunker and can't help the tired sigh that escapes him, as he cracks his sore joints. His head falls back against the wall and he stares up at the ceiling, groaning when he faintly hears the sound of moans and the slapping of flesh on flesh from behind the wall. Great. Now his sleep is going to be ruined by Glenn not being able to  _not_ fuck Maggie once in a while, if it even is those two. He's pretty sure it is them though, because no one else in this cell block is getting fucked as far as he knows, or they at least go off somewhere where no one will hear the noises they make. Glenn and Maggie don't give a shit who hears, they just want sex.  _Like horny teenagers_ , he grunts and sighs again.

He briefly wonders about Beth then, if she ever snuck off with Zach back when he was around, off to the library or shower block to do such things. The thought of the sweet little Beth pressed up against a wall beneath an orgasming Zach makes Daryl frown, and he shakes the image out of his head immediately. He doesn't want to imagine her of all people in a position like that. Beth is innocent to him;  _light_ , friendly. Imagining her naked having sex against a wall just doesn't feel right at all. Not her.

"Daryl?"

The sudden voice catches Daryl unexpectedly, and he jumps up where he's sat on the bed and knocks his shoulder against the wall. "Shit..." he groans, giving his shoulder a rub and getting ready to give whoever the hell barged in on him like that one hell of a gobbing off at...

But it's just Beth.

Just Beth.

...The  _last_ person he wanted to see after that little mental image of his. He bets his face is as red as a tomato right now, and he can feel the head all the way up to his ears. Please don't let her see through him. Daryl swears she can read him like a book sometimes, and right now he really doesn't want her to do that.

Luckily, she doesn't seem to be able to read his thoughts, and she leans against the bars of his cell door, with the grin from earlier still plastered onto her face. He can see the amusement shining away in her eyes at his reaction to her bursting in, and he looks away. He can't deal with her grins and giggles right now, because the image of her moaning into the night is still imprinted in his mind.

"Did I scare you?" she teases, eyes bright and her light blonde hair glinting in the low light. It's down now, he notices. Unbound to fall down her back and shoulders, with small braids cascading down the waterfall of gold. He likes those braids. There's something about them that's very her. Childish, but something else too... Something Beth.

"Jus' startled me s'all." he mumbles, rubbing his sore shoulder. "Somethin' wrong?" He wants to know what the hell made her come down to his cell this late at night. It can't be nothing, she'd just wait until morning. So it must be something important. But  _what_?

She shakes her head. "No... I came to come get  _you_."

"...What? Come get me for  _what_?"

"You'll see." Her expression is odd.  _Giddy_. He can tell she's excited about something, her inability to keep still tells that much. But why is she excited?

It's then that he sees the pile of duvets and cushions she dumped on the floor just outside his cell. He stared at them in confusion, and she catches him staring. He also notices her bare feet then, small dainty toes wiggling on the stone floor, with toenails painted a soft pink with some nail polish he brought her from one of the runs. She smiled at him when he gave it to her, and put it on right away, thrilled at the colour and shaking her hands to get it to dry faster.

"Bring yours too. We'll need all we can get." She's referring to the duvet obviously, because Daryl doesn't have nail polish.

"Why?" he asks again. That seems to be the only thing he can say to her. Why? Why? Why everything? Why is she so simple and right? Why does he like talking to and being around her so much? Why can't he stop seeing her smile and bright eyes from when she approaches him randomly? And why can't he stop thinking about why the sky is blue? Or why his age is suddenly so important he's trying so hard to remember... Just for her.

Beth bends down and picks the pile of white bed-wear up. "Stop asking questions!" she comments, "Just get your stuff and c'mon!"

"But where we  _goin'_?"

"You can ask all you won't but I'm not gonna tell you. It's a  _surprise_."

A surprise, huh? Daryl didn't think he'd ever had a surprise before, unless it was a surprise attack from walkers, or surprise fence duty from Rick who pulled out to go play farmer some more. No nice surprises really. But Beth's surprise seemed different, because she was excited about it and it was supposedly for him. That was another weird thing about her he could add to the list of weird things, how she was excited  _for_ him.

She isn't going to tell him what it is, but she is excited. So Daryl can bring himself to be some level of excited too. Plus he's intrigued too, and it's  _her_. So he scoops up his own duvet and pillows and follows after her down the dark halls of the empty jail, every other inhabitant in their beds. Or fucking like Glenn and Maggie.

Beth's feet pad softly along the floor of the prison, her blonde locks swaying on her back as she trots gracefully along. It's in that moment as well, that Daryl takes note of what she's wearing.

She's in what he guesses are her sleeping clothes, because they're way too flimsy to be worn out and about in broad daylight. Loose floaty tank top, very low on her chest and revealing the full of her shoulders, and thin cotton shorts that barely come to her mid-thigh. An awful lot more flesh on display than he's used to when it comes to her, him being used to her tight blue jeans that cover her legs. He's not exactly complaining because her bare skin is very nice to look at, all soft and smooth looking. But it's because it's her that it feels wrong. And the image of her fucking Zach against a wall just can't seem to leave his mind, as annoying and awkward as it is. He'd seen them kiss a few times, but nothing  _more_. He couldn't be sure if they ever  _had_ done anything more, and they sure as hell never would because Zach was gone. And that actually fucking sucked, because though Daryl didn't fancy seeing him and Beth screwing against a wall, Daryl liked the guy. And Beth must have liked the guy too. Surely she misses him, thinks about him at least. And it's thinking about her being sad that makes Daryl uneasy.

He snaps back to reality and wonders where the hell she's taking him, dressed in her night gear, and arms full of blankets and pillows... There is also a bag filled with contents unknown to him slung across her shoulder. Now what's in  _there_? There was no use asking, because she'd just blow it off like she had his previous questions. He thinks he's entitled to know where she's sneaking him off to though in the dead of the night. She could be trying to kidnap him or something for all he knows!

It sure seems like that's her plan when the east watch tower comes into view as they step out into the prison yard, and she leads him over to it. Once at the foot of the tower, she pulls open the door and ushers him inside, the duvets in her arms nearly tumbling out of her hold as she skips up the stairs giddily.

Daryl feels scared now. This is the place Glenn and Maggie come to fuck away when they don't want to be disturbed, and probably where every other horny individual in the prison does too. It's not secret that this is the  _'sex tower'_... And  _Beth_ is leading him up here.

He swallows and follows after her, heart thumping in his chest as he still sees her with Zach against a wall, and then behind a bookshelf in the library.  _Stop_.

When they arrive at the top and enter the circular room, Beth dumps the load of covers down and practically dives into them. Daryl stands in the doorway with his arms full with his own duvet, and watches her crawl back out of the little nest she'd made. She laughs at his dazed expression, and his heartbeat quickens. She does that to him a lot.

"What're you waiting for?" she asks with another tinkling laugh, bunching the duvet around her and squeezing a pillow. "Come  _on_."

She laughs again when his body fails to move, louder this time, and so gets up and walks toward him. She takes the heap from him and dumps it down with hers. She then takes his hand and yanks him down suddenly so that he ends up sprawled out with her on a pile of white softness. Daryl could feel his cheeks growing hotter as she glanced at him, hair fanned out around her in gold bunches among the pristine white. She studies his expression, and her lips curl into a tiny smirk.

"What's wrong?" she asks then, turning on her side to face him, making his cheeks grow only ever redder.

He opens his mouth to answer, but something that sounds akin to a  _squeak_ escapes, and he felt the fire in his cheeks travel all the way up to the tips of his ears as she burst out into hysterical laughter.

" _What_?" she asks again, head thrown back onto the pillows and still smiling

"What're we doin'?" he finally manages to stutter, cheeks aflame and heart beating wildly.  _What are we doing Beth Greene? What do you want from me?_

Beth's eyes wide at that, and her smile softens. "I wanted to do something for you..." she says quietly, "Because you said it's your birthday, or tomorrow or whenever... And you said no one else really cared... So I wanted to do something that would show you people  _do_... So I made you a sleepover! Of course it's just  _me_ here with you though... So that kinda sucks a little... But I still wanted to  _try_."

_Oh._

What the hell had he been panicking over? Of course it would be something like that. This is completely  _Beth_. She does things like this,  _this_ he can handle. And upon knowing this he doesn't know why he was so worried in the first place. It wasn't like she was leading him up here so they could have  _sex_! She isn't like that... She's good. Kind.  _Beth_...

Okay maybe he had thought she was leading him up here to do that for a second.

Daryl could feel his cheeks going warm again at the thought. Little Beth Greene, sneaking into his cell in the middle of the night to lead him away to the fuck tower so they could play... God  _no_. That wasn't Beth at all. She's so small, sweet, and  _good_. And as for him... Well, he's just  _him_. He doesn't even know why she wants to do something nice for a guy like him in the first place. He's hardly friend material, even less so  _boyfriend_ material.

Then why is she being so friendly with him recently? It isn't like she owes him anything for her company, or that she wants to return a favour to him. All he's done is tell her what happened to Zach that horrible day on the run... That's all. Then somehow, instead of him comforting her like he'd planned and tried to... She had ended up comforting him. And after that Daryl often found himself thinking about that small amount of comfort she'd given him that was  _so_ much more than just a mere hug he'd flinched at at first. A hug with such simple and innocent intentions, that he just couldn't get out of his head...

Because she'd asked him if he was okay.

Just three little words she'd probably say to anyone...  _Are you okay?_ Those words struck a chord within and after that he just couldn't stop noticing the petite blonde as she passed him in corridors, or the smiles she gave him from across the table as she bounced Judith on her lap, or came to pass him a cold flannel whenever he was working on the bike...

Just because she'd cared enough to ask.

Because she  _still_ cares.

"We don't have to!" she blurts suddenly, "If you don't want... I kinda just forced you into coming with me anyway... I get it if you just wanna go back to your cell and-"

"I wanna stay."

It comes out as a quick string of words that are tied together, and he shuts his mouth immediately after saying it. After being honest again, something he seemed to just  _do_ unintentionally when with her... Like when she had asked if he was okay, and he had told her that he really wasn't. Because he really felt he  _could_ tell her, and that had never happened before.

Beth smiles at that, a small smile that's relatively shy, and she rests her head back on the pillows. "Good." she whispers.

They lay like that for a while, just side by side staring up at the ceiling. It's not an uncomfortable silence, but Daryl still feels he should say something to break it. Because she's always been the talkative one, and he wants to give something back for a change.

"...So... what're ya supposed to do at these things?" he asks awkwardly. He's pretty sure that you aren't supposed to just lie quietly all night for one.

She sits up and grins down at him, before reaching for the mystery bag she brought. She reaches into it and pulles out an array of different things. Candles... matches...  _candy_ , he noted with an inward smirk; and...  _Alcohol_.

"You... Are ya  _allowed_ that?" he asks skeptically, eyeing the bottle of clear liquid.

" _No_..." she whispers with another one of her cheeky expressions, "I got it from one of the guys from Woodbury's stash.  _Bob's_... He won't know."

"Ain't much of a  _secret_ stash if  _you_ know where it is an're raiding it."

"I'm not  _raiding_ it." she argues, "I'm just...  _Borrowing_ it."

He raises a brow. " _Borrowing_? That what it is, huh? So you're gonna give it back when you're done then?"

"Um..."

Daryl nearly laughs then. She looks so funny sitting there with her brows furrowed, chewing her bottom lip as she regards the bottle. He even dares go as far as to think she looked pretty  _attractive_ doing that with her lip... He even wondered what it would be like if  _he_ were the one biting it instead- Woah!  _Stop_. Not those kinds of thoughts. It's bad enough that he had thought she brought him up here to... No. Just  _no_.

"He has plenty already." Beth says eventually with a bright smile, reaching to unscrew the top off the bottle.

"What is it anyway?" he asks curiously, scooting closer to her and studying the clear liquid.

"I don't know... There were no labels so I just kinda grabbed a random bottle. And there's how I've never really... I've never really... drunk anything before, so I wouldn't know what to get anyway."

"An' you want your first drink to be with  _me_ of all people?"

"What's wrong with  _you_?" she asks, completely  _genuinely_ , as if she honestly believed there was nothing bad about him.

 _Oh Beth_... If only she knew the things he'd been through... The things he'd  _done_. Then she would have a different opinion.

Instead, he goes for shrugging his shoulders again. "Jus' better people to do somethin' like that with than me." he mumbled.

"Well I like you. And I wanna do this with you. Besides... It is your birthday."

"...Maybe." he corrected.

Another smile. "Yeah.  _Maybe_."

She picks up one of the plastic cups she had also brought, (a  _shot glass_ , he smirks at) and pours some of the liquid into it before handing it to him. He realises that he still doesn't know what the stuff is, and brings the cup to his lips and drinks.

"...So what is it?" she asks,  _eagerly_ really.

And he smiles.  _Really_ smiles.

"Moonshine."

"I take it from the look on your face that's  _good_?"

"Oh yeah," he nods, " _Real_  good. Couldn't'a been luckier wit' your random bottle choosin'."

She reaches for the bottle again and pours herself a drink this time. She stares into the cup for a while, eyes gleaming in the low light and then looking up at him. "...Is it good?" she asks.

"Mmhmm." he nods. "Should give it a try."

This was going to be funny. Beth Greene's very first drink... And it was  _moonshine_  of all things. This was going to be fucking hilarious. He feels slightly bad for going behind Hershel's back with this, but it's technically Beth's fault since she's the one who dragged him into this. Yep, if anyone's to blame, it's sure as hell going to be her.

Beth lifts the tiny cup to her lips and pours the liquid in. He watches her drink the first sip, fascinated, watching her tongue dart out and catch some droplets that escaped and making her lips glisten with saliva. Daryl swallows again.

Her face turns sour then, and she stares down at the empty shot glass in disgust. "That's the most disgusting thing I've ever tasted." she declares, but still pours herself glass.

"Second round's better."

"If you say so... Hey. Wanna play a game?"

"Um... What kind o' game?"

"It's called  _'Never Have I Ever'_." she smiles, and picks up one of the candles.

He hands her his lighter and she lights it and sets it down on the floor; a soft ember basked in the moonlight, a slow burn simmering away. She lights several more and sets them around for a better light source, then gives him back the lighter once satisfied. He remembers their earlier conversation about banners and candles, and smiles to himself as he sees the pile she's brought.  _How many candles for his age?_  She had no way of knowing, so it looked like she'd brought the whole prison supply.

"How'd you play?"

"Basically, I say something I've never done, and if you have done it, you drink." she explains.

"Okay..."

"So I'll go first. I've never... Forgotten how old I am."

"You know I have though, ain't that cheatin'?"

She grins again and giggles. "That was a kind of warm up then. Now  _you_  go."

"Ain't never..." Since they were on the topic of birthdays... "Ain't never had cake for a birthday."

That surprises Beth too, and she blinks wildly. " _Really_? Ever?" He shakes his head, and she looks almost guilty as she raises the cup to her mouth and drinks. Guilty for something that didn't happen in his past... Guilty for something she had no power over... Guilty because it was something  _she'd_  had, and he hadn't.

"Okay my turn again. I've never... gotten drunk and done something super bad that I regretted."

He takes a long gulp there. She looks like she wants to ask what it was he did, but decides not to and just waits patiently for him to take his go. It's strange what they're doing, he thinks. Playing a silly game in the dark of the night, high up in the renowned fuck tower, surrounded by blankets and candles... It's almost  _romantic_ , he also thinks before shaking it right out of his head and focusing on what to say next. He needs to get these crazy thoughts under control.

He thinks and runs his thumb along the glass of the cup... He thinks of Beth, of her and all their weird conversations... Of Rick and those damned pigs... Of Carol and her hella good rabbit stews... Then Beth again. Beth with her bright fucking  _sunshine_  smiles and soft giggles... Her glittering blonde hair that sailed behind her as she skipped away, and her  _laughter_... And then her and Zach in the library from his imagination again. And then it just comes out.

"Ain't never had sex before."

_Fuck._

" _What_!?" If she seemed shocked at anything he said before, she was  _really_  shocked now. She sits up properly and gapes at him with huge eyes and jaw dropped open comically. " _You_? Never?"

"Well- Not-"  _Shit._ "Well not  _never_ , I meant more..."

Shitshitshit, that hadn't meant to come out. He was always so held back when it came to physical contact, so he tried to avoid any at all. Which was pretty hard when you had Merle for a brother, who thought forcing women on your little brother at clubs was loving and  _brotherly_. Daryl had accepted a few quick jobs and screws, but never had  _he_  been the one to take the lead. Never wanted to.  _Still_  didn't really want to... That is... Until  _her_...

"Daryl..." she whispers, "What do you mean? I thought that's the one thing you  _definitely_  would've done. Before the turn at least."

"Why?" he finds himself asking, that  _same word_  again. Despite the new layer of awkwardness, still back to that one word.  _Why_  does she think that?

"Uh, well... I guess... I guess I just thought with your looks and all that you'd have had a lot of luck with something like that back then..." her words trail off and she runs a finger along the rim of the tiny up on her lap, the flickering lights from the candles glinting lowly in her eyes.

Wait.  _What?_  His  _looks_? Didn't that mean... that she found him...  _attractive_? It sure had sounded that way from how she phrased it. Surely he'd heard her wrong. He isn't anything special. He's nobody.

Nothing.

"It was more... Was more like I wasn' really  _into_  that kinda thing." he mumbles, gaze pointing downward, "Did it a couple o' times, but never really liked it all that much."

"Why not?"

"Jus' never really wanted to."

"...Is that the only reason?"

His gaze travels back up to her then, and he sees her expression. Her eyes are soft, gentle, and her lips are slightly parted and glistening from the beverage. He looks at her in that moment, blonde hair left unbound in wild waves with tiny braids decorating, tiny frame clothed in thin sleeping garments... And he wants so badly to touch her. Nothing else, just  _touch_  her. Forget his fear of physical contact for just a  _second_ , and reach out and touch her.

But he can't. And he wants to, but he can't. Why? That one word he keeps asking her... Because he's afraid.

Afraid of the one thing every other human craves in this apocalypse. Afraid of being touched. Because the only touch he's ever known has been the sharp thrash of a belt or a hard fist colliding with his cheek. No comfort had ever come from touch before... Until  _Beth_.

Until she strode over to him in her cell and fastened herself onto his torso, his body going still at the contact from the  _fear_... But no pain had come from her touch, only softness. Like her shoulder that had become visible from her loose cardigan falling off her shoulder, and then Daryl had thought that maybe... Touch didn't  _have_  to equal pain. Maybe it  _could_  be a comfort like so many saw it as.

Maybe it could be good.

"Daryl..." her voice is soft like the rest of her, and she crawls closer to him in the duvet. Her eyes are shining with something so foreign to him, something he doesn't recognise. And that scares him, but he doesn't want it to stop.

He's afraid. He's  _so_  afraid. But at the same time... he's not. Because it's  _her_. She does something that whatever it is, it doesn't matter because it's just  _right_. It's Beth, and he's not afraid of her. Not at all.

She's so close. So close he could almost touch her, if he dare. He wants to though, even if he is afraid of it. He  _wants_  to touch her. Badly in fact. But she's like the sun - bright and ever-giving to everyone and everything around her, that he's scared of being burned.

"I don'  _like_  people touchin' me..." his voice is less than a whisper, and he knows he's shaking as she crawls closer.

"I know..." hers is a whisper too as she settles just in front of him. "I knew when I hugged you that day when you came to tell me about Zach. I knew then..."

The candles flicker as she stares up at him, and he can feel the blood pumping through his veins wildly.

She doesn't smile this time, just looks at him, with her big blue eyes and fucking soul-searching expression... And he knows she's going to say something. Something  _Beth_. Something  _right_. She's always  _just right_.

"And that's okay," She smiles then, "It is. Because you can change it if you try. If you want to... You can."

And her words make him believe he can. And he will. Because she  _says_  he can, and she's  _just right_.

His hand reaches for her then, despite the slight shaking of his shoulders, and he touches her cheek lightly. She doesn't push, never does she push, just leans gently into his palm, her cheek as soft as he thought it would be, and he releases a shaky breath at it.

"You  _can_." she says again, and his other hand comes up and palms her waist, feeling the soft fabric between his fingers and the heat of her skin beneath.

He's not sure what he's doing, but he isn't going to argue with himself. Because he's  _touching_  her, and it's great. So  _great_. He can feel her warmth beneath his fingertips, her blood rushing through her, proving she's real. And then he knows what he wants to do.

He wants to hold her.

Just  _hold_  her. Wrap his arms around her and pull her close to him, and not tense up in the process. Because this is the furthest he's ever got, and he doesn't want to fuck it up.

Because it's Beth. And he wants to be able to do this for her.  _Why?_  He doesn't know, but he thinks if he tries and  _does_  something... He'll be able to know why. One day. Maybe. Because  _she_  can help him find the answer to that  _one word_  he thinks when he's with her. Small, gentle, sweet Beth Greene, so young and  _bright_... She can show him. Maybe that's what she's been trying to do with her all along, with her innocent interactions with him these days? Show him that he  _can_  do this and not be afraid. That he can hold her.

So that's what he does.

The hand he has on her cheek threads into her hair and the one on her waist pulls her closer to him, pressing her onto his front where she seems to fit so oddly perfectly.  _Just right_. And her head burrows into the crook of his neck, her fluffy hair that smells of sweat, faint shampoo, and  _sunshine_  tickling his chin, and he wraps his arms around her like he wanted to. And he breathes out the breath he hadn't realised he's holding, because he's  _doing_  it.

He's embracing Beth Greene, and he hasn't flinched or freaked out.

He's done it. She was been right. She's  _always_  just right.

And in that moment, with Daryl holding her to him like an anchor, he can feel Beth's lips moving against his skin, and the words of a melody come pouring out softly... A melody so silken and tender, he closes his eyes and lets out a shaky sigh and rests his chin on her head.

 _"And boy you really got me after birthday cake_  
_Making out on my friend's new couch_  
_So call me any night, any day of the week_  
_I wanna learn what you're all about_  
_And I know I'm far away but this is just the start~"_


	2. It's okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter of this little ficlet for Summer Of Bethyl. Thank you for all the kind reviews and support. It's been a pleasure to read them and I've really enjoyed writing this particular fic. Maybe I'll write in present tense more in the future? If you want to read any more of my work, please go ahead! :)
> 
> Enjoy the second and last part.

It keeps happening now. Just quick, chaste touches. Once he's started, he just can't stop. Touching her, that is. He does it without meaning to sometimes. Whenever she hands him something, their fingers will brush for just a second, but he doesn't flinch or shy away from it. Or sometimes when they talk, he'll put his hand on her shoulder, just a light pat, but it's still a  _touch_.

He does it because he finds he  _can_. She knows he can too, and encourages it. But she never  _pushes_ , never that. Never takes it too far where he limps off in fright, licking his wounds from where she burned him. She just follows his lead.

It starts as simple brushes of fingers and small pats on the shoulder, then he finds himself trying to reach for her hand sometimes. When it's just the two of them. His fingers itch to hold hers, to hold  _her_  like he had that night in the watch tower... And sometimes his thumb manages to brush the back of her hand, as they walk side by side. Or he watches her from afar as she plays with Judith, and envies that baby who has her hands clasped tightly as they play together.

And it's good. Because she's showing him he can do it. That he  _can_  touch and not be afraid. And with her it comes quite easily. She makes him think that it's okay, that it's  _just right_. Because it is. It  _should_  be okay, because it is for everyone else. He knows it's not normal to scoot away from something like physical contact, and wants to make that better.

And she wants that too, because she's helping him do just  _that_.

"Are you busy?"

Beth leans on the door to his cell again, similar to how he had when he'd come to hers. Her expression is hopeful, but not pushy. She's never pushy.

"Yeah. Why?"

No explanation again. Just another wide grin and a:  _come on!_ that he just can't help but obey. Her words are kind of like scripture he thinks, weird as that sounds. She has that way of saying things where they just seem meaningful, even if the only two words she utters are  _come on_. She doesn't even have to say anything really, because they both know he'll follow her anyway.

She leads him outside into the prison yard, and out to stand by the fence. There are no walkers on this stretch, he notices, and she looks up at him then. She lowers to her knees and motions for him to do the same, so he does. What she points to then surprises him, and he follows the direction of that pointing finger to see what she was so eager to get him to see...

A lone, blue flower blooms just beyond the fences. Small and bright in contrast to the dry, grassy terrain that walkers have trampled over time and time again. Just a  _flower_... But it feels like she's showing him more.

Daryl directs his gaze back to her then, and she smiles at him. The brightness of the flower suddenly pales in comparison to the blue of her  _eyes_ , and he feels heat creeping into his cheeks again under the sheer fucking radiance of her smile. Her hair catches the light then, blonde tendrils dazzling silver and gold, that single braid in her ponytail hanging like a magical chord of some kind.

"What do you think?" she asks then, sunlight pouring down onto her face and bare shoulders, illuminating her with its mellow shine. Daryl feels his heart skip a beat.

"Why'd you show it to me?" is all he manages, though he wishes he could manage to voice his thoughts.

Beth tilts her head to the side and presses a finger to the dusty ground they kneel on. She draws circles in the dust, tiny little patterns in the dirt spun from her hands, and he finds himself mesmerised by her actions.

"I guess..." she trails, still drawing those little dusty patterns, "That I wanted you to see that things like that can  _still_  bloom, even after the soil being trampled on so many times... That things can still rise up after so many rough patches, and  _flourish_."

He does touch her then. His hand brushes against hers, and she understands, and takes it. She lets him curl their fingers together and gives his way larger hand a tiny squeeze. A gesture he guesses says...  _You did it._

He can do it. He's not afraid.

"And I wanted to try give you something as a kind of present," she adds, "You know... Since it's your birthday."

"Thought it was  _yesterday_?"

"Well you said you didn't  _know_ , so it might be  _today_."

"Or tomorrow... Or t'day after that... Or t'day after  _that_..." he remarks, "No way of knowin'. Can't jus' keep celebratin'  _every_ day."

She smiles. "Why can't we?"

 _Why can't they?_  He supposes they can if they want. There are no rules now, with the dead walking and them all holed up in a  _prison_  of all places. He supposes they  _can_  do something like this if they really want to. It's not hurting anyone.

"What's stopping us?" she asks, her voice having taken on that singsong tone, and the braid in her ponytail swings and brushes her shoulder.

 _Nothing,_ he thinks.

.

.

He goes to  _her_  the next time. Or he doesn't  _mean_  to, but somehow he finds himself outside her cell one afternoon, and the soft sound of her voice echoes out from behind the patterned sheet she's hung for privacy.

She's singing.

She's sitting on the floor with Judith when he moves the sheet aside to peer in, sat cross-legged and playing with some cups that the baby is squealing over happily. Lyrics spill from her lips as they play, and her eyes glide closed every so often as she hits a certain note that makes Daryl's breathing quicken. He leans against the bars and finds the music  _soothing_  to his ears. It's always been soothing to him whenever she did it. He wouldn't have admitted it before... But he liked her singing. They all did. But he did  _especially_  for some reason.

It filled him with a sense of warmth and serenity. Things he wasn't used to until he started sharing these tiny chaste touches with her. And he thought, that it was okay for him to like her singing...  _You can._

Beth looks up at him then, singing taking an abrupt stop as she smiles at him. "Hey." she says softly, Judith now alerted to his presence and squealing with her arms flailing madly in his direction. She gurgles a string of words that don't make sense, and a few that vaguely sound something like his name.

"...Hi." he announces awkwardly, and she nods for him to come closer.

So he does.

Judith erupts into another fit of giggles as he sits with them, and runs her petite fingers down his forearm with a huge toothy grin planted on her face. "Hey there Lil' Ass kicker." he smirks, reaching out and having the toddler catch his large palm and trap his thumb with her little fingers. She bursts into laughter again, and wiggles where she sits. She sure is a happy baby today.

He can practically  _feel_  Beth's smile, and turns to look at her. "Say happy birthday to Daryl, Judy." Beth giggles with the infant, and he smiles too. So they're still doing that then, pretending it's his birthday more than two days in a row.

Judith laughs wildly again, refusing to release his thumb despite his efforts to shake her off.  _Judith's_  touch doesn't bother him. She's only a  _baby_  after all. No pain could come from her... Apart from a few missing hairs she'd pluck out, and a few trails of saliva.

"What was that ya were singin'?" he finds himself asking, gaze preoccupied with trying to release himself from Judith's  _impossible_  iron grip.

Beth flushes then, and fiddles with the plastic cups. "Nothing really..." she shrugs off, "Just something I made up. Nothin' special."

"Made it yourself?"

She nods.

"...Should do it some more... Keep singin'..."

He's not sure why he's so embarrassed for asking, or why his cheeks feel so hot, but he  _wants_  her to sing again. He wants that feeling he gets when she sings, that fluttery feeling of peace. He realises he wants a lot of things when it's her. Because it's  _her_  he wants them from. She shows him it's okay to want those simple things like being able to touch her and listen to her sing... It's okay.

"I thought my singing annoyed you." she admits finally, expression sheepish, and Judith makes a loud gurgle. Possibly an attempt at singing herself.

"...There ain't no  _jukebox_  here so..."

It sounds like he's teasing her and her cushy life before the turn, but she only smiles at his poor attempt at a joke, and opens her mouth to comply to his request.

" _I want to be a famous singer, would you be my band_ _  
__Travel the world together, you can hold my hand..."_

Daryl stares at her, kneeling there across from him, eyes having slid closed and her hair tied in a loose bind that's swept over her shoulder, and hanging down her chest. The braid is there still, chunky and messy, but that doesn't matter, because it's what makes her, her. And she's just  _right_.

" _Crossing cracks from the airplane to the terminal gate_  
Hope we're meant for each other, hope that love is our fate  
Life feels like a whirlwind, been watching paint dry  
Can't steady the current no matter how hard I try..."

He wants to hold her again then. Tuck her into his chest and feel her hair soft beneath his chin. He wants to touch her, rub his fingers across the fabric of her shirt and feel the warmth radiating from underneath. He wants to do so many things then, things that make his heart beat faster... Touch her... Hold her... Just  _be_  with her... It frightens him what he feels,  _more_  than physical touch. At least with that he knows  _what_  he's afraid of. This... This is new. And that's even worse.

But at the same time... It's better.  _She's_  better. He's not afraid of her, not at all, only the way she makes him feel.

" _We could all use an anchor, you're not afraid of the sea_  
Let's go diving together, put your hooks in me.  
Boy, you really got me after birthday cake..."

He doesn't know what it is he feels, but it feels good.

.

.

Daryl doesn't know what came over him when he got possessed enough to go ask Beth to meet him later by the fences. He's not afraid she won't come, because she  _will_. He's just afraid of what he'll  _do_. Or rather... What he'll  _want_  to do.

"Daryl."

She walks up from behind him and he turns. Her hair is tied in her usual ponytail, thick golden braid still hanging, but several thick chunks of hair have fallen from the band and hang by her face messily. They're in loose natural waves, fringe tucked behind her ear, and the blonde fucking  _dazzles_  in the colour of the twilight.

It's cold for what must be mid August, and she's wearing that wool cardigan that fell from her shoulder when she first hugged him in her cell. The cold doesn't really bother him, but his bare arms are filled with goosebumps all the same, and he suspects they're not entirely from the cold.

"What's wrong?" she asks, probably noticing his fidgeting and avoiding of eye contact.

She steps closer so that she's standing just before him... Close enough to touch.

He doesn't really know why he asked her out here, he just wanted to see her. He likes seeing her... Talking to her...  _Touching_  her.

"Daryl?"

"Beth."

He likes the way her name rolls off his tongue so easily. He likes a lot of things about her. When she stares at him like that, her eyes filled with light and  _something_ , he feels like every thought he's ever had of her just shines through and she can  _see_  it. See  _all_  of it, and just know.

She always knows.

"... _Oh_..." she breathes then, eyes widening just a fraction of an inch, and lips slowly parting.

She's so close. So close he really  _could_  touch her, but he doesn't have to... Because  _she_  does. And he isn't afraid. Not as her fingers ghost down his dirt and sweat-layered arms. Not as her gaze drifts down to the part of chest that's visible through his open collared shirt... Not even as his head starts to lean down progressively, and her eyes grow wider, but not out of fright or repulsion. They shine with her hair, and her hands fasten to the front of his leather vest, her leaning up too so she's standing on her tip-toes.

And he kisses her.

Warily at first, his shoulders slightly trembling before she shifts her hands up and cups his cheeks, fingers stroking the hard stubble there. And he knows it's okay.

One of his hands presses onto her waist and grips her hip, not  _roughly,_  but still forcefully. Her hands move from his cheeks and her fingers thread themselves into his hair, combing it out of his face and pulling him as close to her as possible. Their lips clash clumsily and he catches her teeth frequently in the blind struggle. It's messy; uncontrolled, but Daryl doesn't care. It feels  _right, like her_. She kisses him thoroughly, surprising him when she slides her tongue into his mouth. But he's still not frightened, because it's  _her_ and it feels so undeniably good he can't bring himself to be afraid at all. So he meets her tongue with his own and glides it around hers, drawing a wonderful sound from deep in her throat as he does. A sound that proves to him she's just affected as he.

He's trembling now. He can feel his shakes shifting  _her_  as he wraps his arms tighter around her waist and just holds her to him... Holds  _on_.  _You gotta hold on_. She's kissing him, stroking him, holding him. Holding him  _together_. And as she breaks away from his lips and tugs him down into her neck, her hands rub soothing circles along his back, and he breathes into her neck, whispering...  _chanting_... And though no sound comes out of his moving lips, he knows she can tell the one word he's mouthing against her skin is her name.

 _Beth, Beth, Beth,_  over and over... Until her breath comes out in small shaky pants too under the frantic moving of his lips forming her name like an invocation.

He still doesn't know why he feels the way he does when he's with her, when he's touching her, or now when he's  _kissing_  her... But he thinks, if given the time, he could learn what it was. Learn  _why?_   _Why_  does he feel like this? Why can she do this to him? She's only a girl after all. Just little Beth Greene, Hershel's youngest daughter, and Maggie's little sister. She's  _only_  a girl, but she's gotten further under his skin than anyone else ever has... Only a girl, and she reduces him to a trembling  _child_. No more than a girl but she  _consumes_  him. If given the time he can work out why she can do these things to him. And time is all they have now at the end of the world... Until it's time to go. Which, to be honest, can be any time between now and forever. But Daryl's pretty confident the time isn't  _now_. He feels safe, here in the home they've found, with her holding and stroking him.

And he  _knows_  it'll be okay.

Suddenly she's laughing against the side of his head, and he's confused. All until she opens her mouth and says more of those words that are so  _right_.

"That's a good present, huh? Probably better than the flower."

 _Good_ , yes. But not necessarily better than the flower.

The flower was life... Hope...  _Her_. Anything she chose to give him was good, because it was from  _her_. And he would celebrate something he'd once thought silly and insignificant like a birthday every day... If  _she_  wanted to.

.

.

He doesn't go to sleep right away that night after that. Not because he can't, simply because he feels like if he goes to sleep now, he'll miss something. Something important. Something to do with her. And even though it's just a hunch, Daryl trusts his hunches. So he lies awake on his bunker, staring at the ceiling with his hands tucked behind his head. He waits. Waits for what? He doesn't know. But he'll still wait.

And it turns out that whatever hunch he had was right, because not much later Beth is stood in the doorway to his open cell, her unbound hair gleaming nearly silver in the dark, with her arms once again full with duvets and pillows.

She flashes a grin, and he returns it. He knows what that grin means.

So he's following after her down the dark corridors of the prison, arms filled with his own blankets and some candles he stole from Glenn's drawers. Or  _'borrowed'_ rather, as Beth would put it. He  _borrowed_  the candles, not that he's going to give them back though. Glenn probably won't notice they're gone anyway, since he's too busy indulging in Maggie 24/7. So it's fine.

Like last time, he and Beth find themselves standing at the foot of the guard tower, both their feet lacking shoes this time. The nail polish is still bright on her toenails, slightly cracked now, he notices, and his socks aren't even.

They aren't perfect, but that's fine too.

She has that same bag slung over her shoulder again too, its contents ever a mystery to him. Will there be more moonshine inside? Who knows? But it doesn't matter if there isn't. The moon in the sky still shines down upon them, so they don't need the alcohol for that.

And her  _eyes_  shine with a curious sheen similar to that of the moon's soft hue.

When they arrive at the top, they dump the pile of duvets down, and once again Beth dives onto them. Daryl thinks she probably used to do this before, back in her own room at the farm with her own bedding, soft and patterned with every colour in existence. He nearly laughs at the image of her going head-first into them like she just has, but he can't suppress smile that creeps onto his face as she pokes her head out of the nest of blankets and smiles up at him. She looks like a little bird there, sitting in her nest, her head cocked to the side and her eyes big and bright. Her hair is unbound again, messy and ruffled. Like the ruffled feathers of a bird.

She  _is_  like a bird, he concludes. Dainty. Delicate. And every other word in the dictionary that means small and precious.

"Coming?" she asks, holding out her hand from the array of pillows for him to take.

He takes it without question, their fingers threading together as she tugs him down and wraps one of the blankets around him, pulling him into her cocoon of warmth and laughter. Then she takes the other blanket and throws it over the two of them, essentially creating a lame kind of  _tent_. Only it's not so lame really, because  _she_  made it. And nothing she makes could ever be lame.

She pulls the bag she brought onto her lap, and digs around inside it for something. Candles possibly, but the flames would probably set fire to the duvet if she lit them in here, so that maybe isn't the best idea... Only it's  _not_  candles she pulls out.

It's a flashlight.

She flicks the switch and it flares to life, a bright white beam shooting out and illuminating their kind of lame tent. She sets it between them, and then goes back to digging around in the bag now that there's a better source of light.

"What're you lookin' for?" he can't help but ask, not really expecting an  _answer_  from her, because she likes avoiding answering his questions.

She just grins again.

" _This_."

She pulls out a white cube-shaped cardboard box, plain yet impeccably pristine. And he can't for the life of him figure out what the hell is inside.

But he doesn't have to. Because she opens the lid and sets it down before him, and he's pretty fucking surprised to say the least. Because she remembered what he said during their little game of  _'Never Have I Ever'_... And acted on it...

It's a cake.

Well technically it's more like a chunky kind of cupcake decorated with uneven icing (which he guesses she tried to do neatly). But at the same time, it's the greatest thing he's ever been given. And  _not_  just because it's from her this time. Because it's genuinely the  _best thing_  he thinks anyone has ever done for him.

"I went to Carol earlier today," she tells him, "Asked her to help me, since I kinda suck at cooking... But I  _wanted_  to do this for you, after what you said when we were playing the game... Even if it is kinda sucky, and maybe a little burned too... I just  _really_  wanted you to be able to have this, after  _not_  having it before the world went like this."

_Beth._

His throat feels clogged. He wants to say so much to her, wants to thank her,  _praise_  her,  _touch_  her... But he feels frozen on the spot. Because this,  _this_  is another thing entirely. How does he tell her that it was  _because_  of the world going to shit that he got to meet a whole group of amazing people, all who he considered to be his family now. How he got  _that_  out of the dead literally fucking rising and eating them, how he got a family and friends... Got  _her_.

How does he put into words how he never in a million years even deserved a mere  _glance_  from someone like her, but somehow ended up getting her undivided attention, and even  _affection_. It was madness. A miracle. And he's glad for it. So fucking  _glad_. Because he knows now that it took the goddamned  _apocalypse_  for him to finally find his self worth... And something to live for.

They gave him that, them and her. And though they probably didn't think all too much about how much of a deal it was, it was a huge deal to Daryl. Because he'd finally gotten everything he wanted. Just the simple things people took for granted.

He got a home, and the people that  _made_  it home.

 _Beth_  is a part of that home... The warmth from the roaring fireplace, beckoning him closer to that warmth... And before he knows it, he's reaching and pulling her in to kiss her.

He kisses her more forcefully than the first time, his hands snaking into her her thick blonde tresses and tugging on one of the loose braids that's woven in. She gasps into his mouth when he does that, and coils her arms around his neck to grasp the shaggy hair at the back of his neck as she responds to his frantic movements with her lips. The mini cake she made lays seemingly forgotten beside them, but it's definitely  _not_  forgotten. Daryl could  _never_  forget something like that.  _Especially_  since it's from her.

Daryl's cheeks are aflame as he kisses her beneath the heated layer of the duvet, and he fumbles around trying to shove it off them for some form of cool... Only to knock the torch in the process and somehow topple clumsily onto Beth, wrapped up with her in a knot of tangled bedding.

But she just laughs. Throws her head back onto the pillows and laughs away, apparently oblivious to his huge frame that must be crushing her, or it might be that she just doesn't care. Because her laughter is genuine, like the rest of her, completely and utterly  _real_. She's so real. So real it hurts, and he just can't fathom what she gets out of making him feel this way. But he chuckles with her eventually, giving in with trying to escape the endless knotted bedding they're be trapped in, and just beholds her.

Her eyes are squeezed shut in laughter, dark smoky lashes fluttering against her flushed cheeks, the glistening of tears visible on the edges. Her nose screws up when she laughs, he notices then, scrunches up cutely. And her teeth are beaming impossibly white to say it's the apocalypse and dental care is limited. But they flash in the low light of the moon as her mouth is wide open with her wild laughing, the flashlight having been knocked off sometime when he fell. He glances across at the box with the cake inside as she laughs, and smiles.  _Really_  smiles, because he's happy. All the things that made him afraid before, what he's doing now, they're making him happy.

 _Touching, smiling, letting others in..._  He's doing them and he's happy, not suffering.

Beth makes him happy.

"Daryl." she says his name again. She does that a lot. Say his name. Like she likes the way it sounds. Like  _he_  likes the way  _her_  name sounds, so he says it as much as he can.

"Beth."

They're friends, aren't they? He likes to think that's what they are, and he supposed they are really. They're friends. But there's something else in that friendship too... Something more. What causes his cheeks to go red and his heart to pound away whenever she so much as smiles at him. He supposes it could just be because he's not used to those kind of things from other people, but something tells him that's not quite the case. Others in the group treat him with that same kindness as well, smile at him as they pass, laugh at something funny with him, share fond memories...

But with her... It's different.

He doesn't know why. It just is. She makes him feel different. She makes him feel a lot of others things too. Like how he's sprawled out on top of her on a mountain of soft bedding, almost every inch of their bodies touching, and he's not afraid like he used to be. She makes him unafraid.  _Fearless_. She  _is_  strength. And he needs that. Needs her.

"Beth." he feels the need to say her name again. Just because he can say it, and her hand cups the side of his face as he does.

 _Beth._  It's falling from his lips like a plea as she leans up and kisses his jaw.  _Beth._  Her lips are soft beneath his chin, and the palm of her hand is warm against his cheek. _Beth, Beth,_  over and over, like he can't stop. His hand catches her other hand that's wound in his hair, and laces his fingers through hers again, because he likes the way  _that_  feels too.

No sound comes out from his mouth now, only mouthing, still forming her name, as she kisses all along his neck, up to his cheeks, kissing away the tears he hasn't even realised are falling.

"Shh," she whispers, brushing the tears away with her lips and fingers, giving the hand that's clasped in hers a tight squeeze.

It's alright. Daryl knows it's alright. In fact it's  _better_  than alright... It's Beth.  _Just right,_  like it always is with her. Especially when she opens her mouth to sing, lips brushing his cheeks and the soft melody soothing to in his ears.

He always has liked her singing.

_"I wanna live in New York City_

_When I'm old and grey_

_You say you're gonna come visit me_

_See a Broadway play_

_Snow has just started falling_

_I hope you'll come around soon_

_My apartment is tiny_

_But I think there's enough room for you."_

He likes to think she'll always have enough room for him.

.

.

It's still dark when Daryl's eyes open, and he's still in the east watch tower, wrapped in a nest of duvets with Beth, her petite form curled around him. She's sleeping soundly, cheek resting on his open chest, and he can feel her breath coming out in soft puffs against his bare skin. It's not hot like they say it is in the movies and books, it's  _cool_. Cool air blowing onto his clammy flesh, soothing him.

She soothes him even in her sleep.

He glances down to where their feet lay poking out of the bed-wear nest, her legs wrapped around his and their feet curled around one another's. The chipped pink nail polish on her toenails gleams in the dark, and he can feel the warmth of her all the way down to his toes. He looks at their hands then, fingers still laced together resting on his chest, and her free hand having tucked itself into his shirt and lay pressed against his skin. Touch with her is like nothing he's ever experienced before. It feels fucking phenomenal to just be holding her  _hand_. But he's touching her still, and he's not scared at all.

He can feel the heat creeping into his cheeks again as she shifts against him.

A soft moan escapes her lips in her sleep, and she pushes her hand further into his shirt, seeking warmth there. And then her head rolls up into the crook of his neck and she nuzzles her nose against the bristly stubble there.

The feel of her lips against the column of his throat is bewildering, and he stifles a heady groan just at the sensation. This kind of touch is different. He knows it is, as she unconsciously rolls her hips against his side, effectively  _dry humping_  him really. She squeezes his hand and breathes raggedly into his neck, legs winding around his waist and sighing, eyes still closed.

 _Beth,_  he mouths against the crown of her head, sighing himself as she rocks herself against him again. He understands that she's a teenager who probably has dreams like these. That's perfectly natural for someone her age who hasn't been laid yet... Or at least he doesn't  _think_  she has. Zach and her didn't get that far surely? She wasn't nearly distressed enough about his passing for that to be the case... Maybe they hadn't then.

Or maybe they  _had_  and Daryl was just trying to get the image of her and Zach rubbing against the library wall out of his head. God, that fucking image. Why wouldn't it just go?

"...Daryl..."

It's so quiet he barely hears it. But he does.  _Definitely_...  _His name_.

It's his name she whispers against his neck as she lays with her limbs tangled around him. And his heart skips a beat at it.

No sound comes out this time, but she moves her head further into his neck and her lips are forming incoherent words with only one he recognises.

 _His name_. Over and over again. Like he did with her. Endlessly mouthing so that its just his name now, her lips moving frantically and now planting soft warm kisses all along his jawline as she does. Daryl feels tears pricking at his eyes again as her hand retreats from deep inside his open shirt and cups his cheek tenderly, for her to whisper something he does understand... Or rather  _sing_. And then he knows she's awake.

_"And my only response is the echo on my voice_

_When I'm falling in love_

_It's like I have no choice."_

He flips her over onto her back and crawls on top of her, Beth staring up at him with a half dazed expression that holds remnants of sleep still. And she smiles at him in that daze, eyes drowsy and smile lazy, but it's still enough to send his heart off beating like crazy.

She keeps singing. Because she knows he wants her to. Because it  _helps_.

His hand cups her cheek and strokes her porcelain flesh with his thumb, their other hands still laced together. And he smiles back at her then, for she's leaning up and kissing him, lips puffy from his earlier kisses, and movements sleepy. But it doesn't matter, because he can touch her without problem now. And she  _likes_  him touching her. That much is obvious from the gentle unsteady breaths she releases under his administrations, and how her fingers thread into his hair once again, and she wraps a leg around his lip, pulling him down to press against her fully.

And then it's his turn to gasp at the contact. At the  _touch_. But he's still not afraid. He doesn't think he ever will be when its her he's touching.

_"And boy you really got me after birthday cake_

_Makin' love on my friend's spare bed..."_

That's twice she's said (well  _sung_ ) that word.

 _Love_...

That wild, unpredictable, fairytale  _thing_  Daryl feels like he's been chasing for so long, never having known it's touch in the days of his childhood with his parents or with Merle... And now suddenly just as he thought he'd given up, here it possibly is. He thinks that maybe this crazy fucking oddity he feels when he's with her  _could_  be just that what he's been chasing all these years.

Chasing for so long without avail, and when he finally gave up on chasing... It chased him back and hit him right in the face.

That maybe he's in love with sweet, innocent, kind, little Beth Greene.

And maybe... Just maybe... She loves him too.

"Beth..."

He knows what he wants to do then. More than just touch her, hold her, or kiss her. He wants to touch her in a way he's never touched anyone before.  _Deeply_ , soul-crushingly connecting. He wants to show her what he feels, because there's no way he can ever put into words exactly how he feels.

And she understands. Because she brushes her fingers into his hair again and gazes up at him, her eyes bright and glowing like the moon, and he knows it's okay. Knows it's right.

He kisses her, this kiss different from the others. Slow, but thorough,  _passionate_  really, and she hooks her legs around him tighter and rubs him against her. He's shaking, and she kisses the side of his mouth, down his jaw and down his neck. She murmurs his name against the chest, working at the buttons on his shirt carefully. She doesn't take it off fully, just leaves it open so she can see, and kisses down further. And then she looks up at him, and he sits up, letting her follow. She takes his hands and guides them to her waist, never breaking eye-contact as she slides them up under her thin cotton shirt. The warmth of her skin burns his palms, but it's a good burn. A burn he can handle...  _Welcomes_  even, as she slides his hands even further up to her front, and presses them onto her naked chest so he can feel the pebbled nipples beneath his palms. He presses his forehead against hers and gives them a light squeeze, and action with evokes a soft gasp from her lips.

 _Beth,_  he's whispering again, as she crawls onto his lap and straddles him, his hands still fixed on her breasts as she moves her hands from over his own and tugs the elastic waistband of her shorts down. Daryl sucks in a shaky breath, and feels his cock throb against her thigh. When the shorts are tossed aside onto the nest of duvets and pillows, she cups his cheek with one to steady him, whilst the other works down to undo his pants and boxers. He kisses her again, needing the contact, slides his tongue deep into her warm mouth, and feels her palm pressing onto his hard, now bare shaft.

" _From my heart to my throat to my lips to the air_ _  
I don't wish for much, but I wish you were here..."_

She whispers the lyrics against his ear, and sits up to position herself over his length. It helps. She knows it does. It proves he can do this. And he can, he will. She'll help him. She always helps him.

" _We need to check this out  
Oh, check me in..."_

And when she lowers herself onto him, agonizingly slowly, he breathes out harshly and suckles the pulse point in her neck. The feel of her scorching heat enveloping him is burning, burning so far into him... But it's  _magnificent_.  _Pacifying_...  _Beth._  And she's kissing away the tears that are returning, and humming a tune in his ear. She's right, she's wondrous, she's Beth.

" _...I'm not into playing games but I do fight to win."_

"Thank you." it comes out as a moan, and she smiles against his cheek, her lips forming his name again endlessly.

_Thank you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the lot. Hope you enjoyed!


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